


Concealed Carry

by somethingclever



Category: DCU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 07:00:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/876953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingclever/pseuds/somethingclever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason Todd can be introspective. No, really. It's not all about the explosions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concealed Carry

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own, nor profit by this fan-driven writing. I am not up to date on comics, and have no real intention of doing so. If you don't like somewhat out-of-continuity stories, please don't read. Constructive criticism welcome, as always!

He can hear the earnest echo in his ears, a blonde, brittle voice crackling over the syllables, artful tears in the actress’ eyes, _“People are all just people.”_

Unless, he thought as his feet pounded the pavement rhythmically, arms pumping in time, directing the symphony of his body, of the run, Unless people are weapons. 

Then, they are not people. They are weapons. 

The thick air tasted acrid, and he longed for a cigarette to sweeten it, for the hiss of a lighter to drown out the syrupy Lifetime movie family bullshit he could still hear. 

Weapons – guns, knives, grenades, bombs– don’t have brothers, sisters, parents, family. They are all the same in purpose, each according to its kind, similar in destructive intent but utterly unrelated to any other weapon. 

He was a weapon, a knife wrapped in the sheath of the night. 

There was no happy home, not ‘other life’ outside of the job. Why should there be? What purpose would it serve? 

_But are you happy like this, Jason?_ They’d ask, and he’d laugh, because weapons aren’t happy, they just are what they are, they aren’t happy or sad or vengeful or just or right or anything but what they were.

He was what he was, and that was all there was to it. He knew who – and what – he was. Nobody else had to, and nobody else wanted to.

Which was just fine by him, because he’d always liked concealed carry, anyways.


End file.
